Shocked
by Wattlebird
Summary: Dean was having a good day. Then they stopped for gas.


The sun was just setting in the west when the low rumble of an engine cut through the early summer soundtrack of evening birdsong and crickets. Two men looked down the single-lane highway that divided the small Kansas town. A black four-door sedan pulled up in front of the general store which boasted the only working fuel pump for forty miles in any direction. The two men sitting on the low deck in front of the store both raised a beer in greeting at the figure that stepped out of the car and then went back to their business of drinking.

o0o

Dean was having a good day. The weather was beautiful: warm without being overwhelmingly so, a light breeze playing through the trees, and not a cloud in sight. All in all, it was a perfect day for driving. Sam was healthy, whole, and sitting in the passenger seat and not in a mental institution. They had just finished up a fairly simple salt and burn job and now had nothing too pressing in the immediate future. Hell, even Castiel had showed up, having joined them several miles back. Castiel had brought Meg along with him, but that was pretty normal these days. Dean was not going to let the demon's presence ruin his good mood.

The fuel gauge was just shy of "E" when they hit the city limit sign (if such a tiny town could even be called a 'city'). The sun dipped below the horizon as Dean pulled the Impala up to the lone gas pump situated in front of a long building with a low porch-like deck running the length of it. Two guys were sitting in rocking chairs on the deck and had enough empty beer cans strewn around them to make up at least a case apiece. Dean hopped out of the Impala and waved at the guys who in turn saluted him with their current beers. The streetlights flickered on with a buzz, throwing everything into sharp relief. Dean circled around the back of the car to take a look at the fuel pump. Interestingly enough, it was a fairly modern one that accepted credit cards. He huffed a sigh of relief; he wasn't sure if either of the two rocker jockeys would be up to the task of working a cash register. Flipping through his wallet, he settled on a card issued to a one Devin Malden. He swiped the card through the pump's reader and entered the required zip code when prompted. After selecting the grade of fuel, he slotted the nozzle into the gas tank and pulled the lever until it stayed on by itself.

The bugs were starting to gather and swarm around the lights. Dean listened to the drone of Sam's voice and the answering gravel-like tone of Castiel filtering through the open windows of the car. He couldn't quite make out the individual words of what was being said over the ever-present buzzing of the lamps, the constant ticking of the pump as the tank filled, and the occasional outburst from the guys on the porch. Dean took a look at his surroundings, the ever-vigilant hunter. This store was the only commercial property for blocks, on the very edge of town. Main Street was several streets to the east and boasted a café, a post office, a small bank, a library, and parallel rows of empty buildings. The store was surrounded by houses on all sides, most in the ranch style. The lights in the surrounding dwellings started to turn on, betraying their occupancy. In the distance, the red lights on top of the grain elevator blinked consistently. Dean trailed his eyes up to the sky. The first few stars of the night had started to appear now that their bright competition had removed itself from this small section of the earth until tomorrow. It was going to be a dark night, Dean thought as he looked at the waning sliver of moon that was just a few shades from being non-existent.

Dean was snapped out of his reverie by the sudden shift in tone coming through the Impala's windows. He furrowed his brow and turned to look through the rear window to see what was going on. Castiel was sitting in the rear passenger-side seat, spine ramrod straight. He had a pained look on his face. Every few seconds he would jerk his head around, almost as if he were looking for something. Meg, in the seat next to Castiel, was looking at him with mild amusement. Dean, concerned, flicked his gaze quickly to his brother in the front seat. Their eyes met, and Sam jerked his head in a 'get over here now' gesture. Dean took one step towards the driver's door when the fuel nozzle clicked its completion. He held up his index finger to his brother and turned back to the fuel tank. He pulled the nozzle out, set it in its cradle on the pump, put the gas cap back on, flipped the license plate down, and half jogged to the driver's door. He opened the door and stuck his head in.

The sight that greeted him was a strange one. Castiel was now straining against his seatbelt still jerking his head around and flinching every few seconds. Meg was now openly laughing at him and whatever was going on. Sam looked even more concerned than he had just a minute ago. "What the hell, Sammy?" Dean asked, directing the question at his brother while he kept his eyes on the angel.

Sam, his eyes also on the struggling angel in the backseat, started to reply, "He keeps asking if we hea-"

"Dean," Castiel interrupted, "do you hear screaming?" He winced and then continued, "I keep hearing screaming and cries for help. It seems to be coming from some-," another grimace, "-where nearby." He was twisting his head around looking for the source of the sound, Dean now realized.

Dean quickly threw a confused glance his brother's way and then turned back to Castiel. "Cas, I was just outside and I didn't see anything weird going on." Dean straightened up and took another, closer look at the surrounding landscape. He looked at the little store with its porch littered with empty beer cans, four rocking chairs (two of which were occupied), creepy folk art creatures made out of old farm implement parts, and an outdoor rug in front of the double doors. Nothing too off there, he thought. His eyes continued their journey onto the house next to the store, passing a bug zapper hanging off of the porch's roof in the transition. The bug zapper flared to life, and Castiel made a whimpering noise. Dean ducked into the car, looked at Castiel, and then back at the zapper. It suddenly clicked. The screams that Castiel was hearing were from the insects as they met their shocking demise. That's why Meg was laughing so hard. She knew what was going on the whole damn time. "It's the bug zapper," he whispered to Sam, keeping his eyes trained on the object.

Castiel followed Dean's gaze to the cage-like device hanging off of the corner of the porch roof. He flinched as the light inside flared momentarily. Now that he knew where the screams were originating from, he could take care of this abomination. He struggled anew with the seatbelt that tethered him to the leather seat.

Meg, seeing that Castiel had recognized the source of his agitation, chose this moment to lean over and say, "Hey look there, Clarence. There's a bee headed towards that thing. Wanna kiss it goodbye before it heads off to the big honeycomb in the sky?"

"NO! NOT THE BEES!" Castiel bellowed, and a brilliant flash followed. Dean was thrown back from the Impala with the force of the blast. He landed flat on his back in a patch of grass, noted the North Star in the sky above him, and blacked out.

Chaos greeted Dean as he came to. He sat up and slowly got to his feet. He wobbled for a couple of seconds, and then looked up to take in the scene around him. His eyes landed on Castiel first. He was standing near the end of the porch which now looked worse for wear. The gutter was partially on the ground, the ceiling sheeting was drooping toward the deck, and there was a cord dangling sadly from the roof. Castiel stood next to a large scorch mark on the pavement. In the center of the mark lay the bug zapper, or at least what was left it. Castiel stood over the piece of twisted and blackened metal, chest heaving as if he had just run a long distance. Dean shifted his gaze to the two old guys on the rockers. They were sitting, beers held at half-mast, staring wide-eyed at the angel. The sound of riotous laughter reached Dean's ears and he turned to the Impala.

The Impala. _Oh my god._ The Impala looked awful. The glass had been blown out of the windows and the windshield, the doors were thrown open as far as they would go, and all four of the tires were completely flat. But that was not the worst part. No, the worst part was the brand new sunroof that had suddenly sprung into existence over the rear passenger seat. Dean was speechless. All he could do was gape at the sight. Meg was still in the backseat, laughing her ass off. Sam was slumped sideways in the front seat, head resting on the edge of the dashboard. Dean walked slowly over to his brother, still in shock over the state of his baby. Sam had a large goose egg forming on his right temple. _He must have been thrown forward and bounced his head off of the dash,_ Dean thought. Shakily, he reached towards his brother and made sure that Sam was breathing and had a pulse. Finding both, Dean took him by the shoulders and, with difficulty, turned him so that his back was resting against the seat and not open air. After Dean was done doing this, he took a second to inspect the damage to the roof. The metal sheeting had been peeled back in a starburst pattern surrounding a perfectly symmetrical circle. He felt sick.

Dean rounded on Meg, who was still cackling. "Why did you tell Cas about the goddamn bee? We could 'a avoided all this," he growled, gesturing around at the damage.

"Wanna know a secret, buddy?" Meg leaned closer to Dean and whispered, "there was no bee."

Dean roared with rage, pulled out Ruby's knife, and lunged across Sam, who was starting to come around. Before Dean could come close to the demon, Castiel appeared next to Meg and then disappeared again, taking her with him. Dean sagged against his brother.

"Wha happen'?" Sam asked, still slightly out of it.

"Cas trashed Baby, that's what happened. Meg told him there was a damn bee headed for the bug zapper and he lost his shit."

Sam sucked in a quick breath as he surveyed the damage around him, becoming more coherent by the second. "How bad is it?"

Dean, who was still partially lying on his brother, started to work his way back out the passenger door. "All the glass is gone, the tires are flat as pancakes, and the doors look okay, just blown open, but nothing too bad. Oh yeah, did I mention the frikkin' hole in the roof?" his tone became more hysterical the longer he went on. "Yeah, Cas left a huge frikkin' hole in the roof over where he was sitting." He now stood outside and pointed at the top of the car.

"Dude," Sam replied as he turned to look at the hole. He swung his legs out of the door and stepped out to inspect the damage from the outside. "What are we going to do?" He looked around and spotted an air pump hose situated underneath the store's sign. It looked long enough to reach the car's left side tires at least. He turned to his brother, "Dean?" Gathering no response, Sam walked over to the hose and tested it to see if it was turned on. A blast of air greeted him when he pressed down on the nozzle. Now came the real test. Were the tires merely out of air, or were they damaged and in need of replacing? Sam sincerely hoped the former was the truth for his brother's sake. He crouched down near the closest tire and started to fill it with air. The air seemed to be staying in the tire for now. He filled it to approximately where it needed to be before moving on to the rear tire. He filled that one, and then discovered that the hose was indeed long enough to reach all four of the tires. After placing the hose back on the hook, he went back to check the first tire. It was still holding its air. Sam smiled at it. _One less thing for Dean to worry about_, he thought. He looked over at Dean, who was still glaring at the damage to the Impala's roof. Sam walked over to his brother and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "It could be worse. He could have peeled the whole thing back like a sardine lid," he joked, trying to get him to smile.

"I suppose," Dean grudgingly agreed. "Gonna be one hell of a ride to somewhere where we can replace the windshield, though."

Sam laughed, and then turned suddenly as he heard a noise from the porch. "Uh, Dean, do you think we need to worry about those guys?" he jerked a thumb towards the guys on the rockers. The brothers both looked over at the men as one of them fell face-forward onto the wooden slats of the deck, passed out. The other one laughed uproariously.

"I think we're good, Sammy. Let's clean this glass up and get the hell outta here."

o0o

"Shiiiiiiiiiiit," Earl drawled as he looked at the damage to the general store's porch. "What happened last night, Bud?"

Bud looked up from where he was toeing the warped shell of the former bug zapper. "I got no idea. All I 'member's a blue light and then wakin' up on the porch." He shrugged, "I know one thing fer shore. Ain't nothin' natural 'bout that light attal."

Earl looked at him and nodded, "that's the last time I drink on a Thursday, I tell ya what."


End file.
